Meet The Press
by HeRonFan
Summary: Harry must deal with the press after the Battle for Hogwarts.  Follows "Loose Ends" as the second of two bridging stories to the sequel to Hermione's Worst Nightmare.  A stand alone story in itself though.
1. Honouring the Fallen

**Meet The Press**

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all characters, etc. here. I'm just playing with her toys.

**Summary:** Harry must face the press after the Battle for Hogwarts and decide just how much to tell. The second of 2 bridging stories to the sequel of Hermione's Worst Nightmare.

**A/N: The detail of the procession was a result of "beatbeat93's" review of Loose Ends. **** I had written most of this fic earlier, and added the procession that was set up in Loose Ends. So if it does not mesh well as you read—sorry.**

**Chapter 1: Honouring the Fallen**

Harry shifted uncomfortably in the camp bed that was set up for him in Ron's bedroom. The situation seemed somewhat absurd to him. He looked around the room and nothing had changed, certainly not Ron's snoring. It was a sound he had gotten used to over the years, although, falling asleep first was a help. Ron's snoring was peaceful and relaxing in some strange way. Perhaps he should think familiar instead of relaxing, he thought. _He _could sleep easily. _He_ didn't have to face the wizarding world later that afternoon and make a speech. Harry had been putting off speaking to the press as long as possible. The Battle for Hogwarts was two days ago, and Harry had been hiding at the Burrow, the only home he had ever been fortunate enough to be included in that he could actually remember. The early morning sun was beginning to brighten the room. For a moment the dim light against the tent canvas floated through his mind—almost a year on the run, and camping in all sorts of places.

His mind continued to churn bits of memory of the past year to the surface despite his efforts to return to sleep. What would he tell them? What should he tell them? Everything? How far back should I go? Once they had reached the community hall in Hogsmeade with all the bodies…No, he corrected himself, the fallen would be a better way of thinking of them, Kingsley had spoken to him about a press conference to settle things once and for all for Harry. Kingsley could be very insistent. Their conversation swirled in his head, blocking any attempt at getting more sleep. He had taken Harry aside after the escort to Hogsmeade of the many brave and valiant fighters who gave the ultimate sacrifice in pursuit of freedom.

_**Flashback**_

The wand lit procession had made its way down the winding road from Hogwarts. It was only nine o'clock in the morning, but the lighted tips still had a lovely air of respect as they moved. Families, friends, lovers, and colleagues all had carefully wrapped the bodies of the people who had fought in the battle in shrouds. Luna and had gone about the castle finding linens, even curtains from the three defending houses to swaddle them with utmost care as if they were newborns. In the folds of the shrouds and strewn atop them were flowers placed there by Neville Longbottom and Hannah Abbott.

The Weasley family escorted Fred, surrounding them with their love, lifting him and each other with their support and shared grief together. On either side of Ginny were her brothers, George and Percy, leading the way. Tears streaming down Percy's face the whole way. George walked forward in a trance-like movement as if on automatic. Each foot placed ahead of the other as he numbly walked down the hill leading his lifeless twin towards home. To the right of Fred's lifeless floating form was Ron walking hand in hand with Hermione. Opposite their still brother were Bill and Fleur. Walking behind their son were Molly and Arthur, hands entwined, knuckles showing white as they gripped each other as they drew strength and supported one another simultaneously. Their eyes, bloodshot and swollen, their cheeks drawn downwards as if they had forgotten what smiling was, they moved forward to honour their son. Neither would remember how they arrived in Hogsmeade when asked about it later. It was all too fresh yet.

Harry advanced towards merging in with the procession from the side road that lead to the Shrieking Shack. Ahead of him, he guided the body of Severus Snape, wrapped in the scarlet and gold colours of Gryffindor. No one was paying attention to the actual colour people were being draped with, but Harry thought in this case it was appropriate. The man had had a change of heart; he had turned into the bravest man he knew. To live his life in trying to make up for his wrong doing, sitting at Voldemort's side trying to hide his true nature and loathing of the man who had taken his beloved Lily from the world—Lily Evans, whose heart was as pure as the falling snow. There had been no need to kill her. Stun her, petrify her, or push her aside manually! Her death was an act of cowardice and fear, not strength defining. Harry had seen Snape emotionally ripped apart at his mother's death and the hand he had in it by informing Voldemort of the portion of the prophecy he had overheard Trelawney tell Dumbledore during her interview for a teaching position at Hogwarts all those years ago. Harry would make sure everyone knew that Snape had helped to bring down Voldemort. If Harry himself escorted his body to join the others, Snape would have a chance at public redemption.

Harry watched as the procession continued on. He scanned the long line descending the road from the first place Harry could ever remember considering a home. He spotted the Weasley's, Ginny striding forward flanked by her brothers. Her face like a stone as she held herself together, but a tear slowly made its way down her cheek and dripped from her jaw line on to her dust covered shirt. Ron ambled forward, his face full of grief and subdued anger. He held tightly on to Hermione who cried openly. He let go of her hand and placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her closer as they walked. _Hell of a way to begin your relationship, _Harry thought. Then he corrected himself. That relationship had started years ago though neither had acknowledged it openly.

"_Not my daughter, you bitch!_" (_DH,_ p. 589)

The shriek rang through his head as he looked past his best friends to Molly Weasley. Harry could not help but smile slightly and laugh softly as he thought of the power of the plump matriarch of the Weasleys. She defended her daughter to the death as any mother would, he thought as his own experience weighed heavily on his heart. Bellatrix Lestrange, that maniac of a woman, had taken so much from so many: Neville's parents, Sirius, torturing Hermione…he would be damned if he let her take Ginny too. If Molly hadn't ended that mad woman's life, Harry surely would have.

He couldn't have said it better himself, he thought. _Damn, she beat me to it!_ _Except, I don't think I would have stopped at bitch. _Admiration swelled up in him for Molly. _Is that appropriate? To be feeling proud of someone during a funeral procession?_ His mind skipped all over the place as he watched such wonderful people escort the valiant fighters who lost the battle for liberty.

Harry's eyes darted about ahead of the Weasleys. Suddenly he was surprised that in his search for Ginny, he had skipped over the lead of the entire procession: Minerva McGonagall and Hagrid walked side by side, Kingsley Shackelbolt followed behind. Their faces held the look of people who had seen too much. But they held their heads high as they escorted two bodies draped in white. Red roses covered one body, while multi-coloured roses covered the more petite one that was magically connected with its partner by a glistening, golden ribbon. Where a bow would normally rest in the center between them, stood a golden phoenix, its wings spread out in flight. Harry's stomach gave a lurch as he realized the teachers were accompanying their fellow members of the Order of the Phoenix: Lupin and Tonks. His chest compressed anew as he felt the weight of the loss of friendship and guidance. He lost his last remaining living connection to his dad. Tears pressed against his eyes. He did nothing to stop them.

"Teddy," he whispered. He froze in his tracks. The child was barely a month old and had lost his parents. He would have no memory of them, like himself with his own parents. "He is not going to live a life of lies," he claimed defiantly. "Your baby is going to know how wonderful his parents were and just how brave you were." He looked up to the sky and whispered, "I promise you. He will know." It was the greatest gift he could imagine giving the child; the gift that Lupin had given him. Tonks had given him protection and laughter—a legacy she left with anyone who knew her. He thought briefly of her clumsiness and knew that quality would become more endearing to him as he would tell her son of her many falls or crashes into things.

He began moving forward again. He could not remember directing his feet to do so, but they had. They felt hollow as he proceded with thoughts of a life without parents assaulting him and he grieved anew for the loss of family for the baby he hadn't even met yet. He wiped at his eyes to focus them on the nearing armada of love. He had intended on joining the procession at the end. He bowed his head in respect to those about to pass him, when the crowd stopped in front of him.

Minerva McGonagall caught his eye. Her eyes moved to the red shroud covered body that Harry accompanied and understood. She glanced briefly at Hagrid to wait a moment and then she approached Harry, their eyes never breaking contact as she neared. Harry would not waver in his decision to include the former headmaster of Hogwarts in this parade of heroes. He did not want to have a row with her about it but was prepared to defend his actions to her if necessary. His discussion with her earlier had centered on clearing his name. He hoped she understood he would do so in action as well as in words.

"Come beside me a moment. Maintain the Hovering Charm," she instructed. Harry fell back into the old teacher-student relationship immediately and obeyed her. As they stood side by side, she flourished her wand and a green sash appeared over Snape's body, trimmed with glittering silver thread. Spaced evenly over the chest was a beautiful cursive script bearing the name: Severus Snape, Headmaster of Hogwarts. She fashioned a three dimensional serpent over where his stomach would be. "For his leadership and resourcefulness; two qualities that are admirable in the Slytherin House." She paused a moment and looked at Harry. "I think it would be fitting to include a lion for his courage and bravery."

Harry smiled slightly, before adding, "And a loyalty that no one could know about but Professor Dumbledore." He swallowed, "May I?"

"I hoped you would, Mr. Potter."

Harry flourished his wand and a three dimensional lion appeared. It walked over to the snake that reared up, and the two magical forms entwined their tails together as they stood as three inch sentinels over the body.

The village lay just 100 meters away from them. McGonagall gestured in its direction. "Will you take your place in the lead?"

Harry was startled. "I thought I would join in at the end." He didn't want his position as the Chosen One to usurp the proceedings.

Minerva McGonagall's eyes looked thoughtful before she spoke. "That would defeat the goal of restoring his dignity," she said as she gestured towards the body they had just adorned. "Like it or not, you are the leader here Mr. Potter, for a few more moments anyway. Lead by example. If he has earned your forgiveness, others' will follow."

"She's right, Harry," said Hagrid as he approached. He smiled compassionately at the young man whom he had carried twice in his life. Hagrid had picked him from the rubble of his destroyed house in Godric's Hollow sixteen years ago and carried him away from the "dead" body of Voldemort. Tonight he had carried Harry's "dead" body as Voldemort pushed him onwards. A painful lump in his throat threatened him anew as he thought of the totured walk through the forest. He cleared his throat and stood tall beside the Headmistress, encouraging Harry to take the lead.

Harry took a deep breath and moved into the procession and lit his wand tip. Somehow, he put one foot in front of the other and continued into Hogsmeade. His gaze straight ahead, he noticed the people of the village had erected multiple archways of the little bluebell flames that Hermione often made. They covered the street from side to side in a canopy of pretty blue all down Main Street. At the base of each archway was an enchanted white rose that seemed to weep. Each petal slowly peeled itself from the stem and fell to the ground and disappeared. When all the petals had fallen, the flower would regenerate and begin the process all over again. The people of Hogsmeade all stood in silence outside their homes, and shops with their wand tips ignited. In each doorway, was another enchanted weeping rose. As each body was brought into town, four townspeople joined as an honour guard, escorting them into the hall and placing them there with care to await instructions from the families. They would be transported on the Hogwarts Express which had been routed there, or Apparate the bodies to the intended homes, or funeral parlor.

The Three Broomsticks had opened early for the mourners to have a place to sit and wait as needed. As Harry left he hall and began making his way towards the tavern, he was intercepted by Kingsley.

"Harry, I don't mean to be indelicate, but you will need to be interviewed by the Ministry about everything. You know…how he did it." Shackelbolt took an uncomfortable breath in. "And there will need to be a press conference. The Ministry will handle it, of course, but the people will want to hear from you."

"If Rita Skeeter is there, I'm not saying a word!" he had barked at Kingsley Shackelbolt. The man who upon entering the village had just been informed he had indeed been chosen as the interim Minister for Magic was taken aback. He had not expected Harry to be overly pleased about the press conference that had been arranged, but the venom that seemed to drip from Harry's mouth and the narrowing green eyes told him this was one point that was not to be questioned.

He had not meant to put Harry on the defensive. Kingsley berrated himself for adding to the young man's burden and tried to lighten the moment. Shackelbolt smirked, amused that the young man had already seen through the popular reporter. "They aren't all like her, you know. But, I understand completely. That woman drove me crazy with the things she wrote. When you know what's really going on, it's scary how wrong the press is when they report and the whole public goes along for the ride," he said bitterly.

Harry's shoulders visibly relaxed. He had an ally here and he knew it. He shouldn't have snapped at him. Harry had not encountered many people who worked at the ministry whom he respected and trusted. Mr. Weasley was one for sure, and Kingsley too. They had integrity. The more people with power Harry met, the less enamored he was with their status. Many had compromised their principles even before Voldemort had come to power in Harry's mind. Amelia Bones came to mind suddenly. He had not thought of her in quite some time. She had dared stand out against corruption. She had paid the highest price for it. Dumbledore had told him once that they would all be forced to make the decision of doing what was easy or doing what was right. The right choice seemed so clear back then.

The right choice…the right choice…Harry rolled over in bed and squeezed his eyes tight. He tried to force his brain to stop thinking…The right choice. _What do I say?_

But now Harry realized that doing what was right often meant sacrificing the safety and security of those you love. He looked at Ron, sleeping, and then the home he was in, the Weasley's. They were members of the Order of the Phoenix; doing their best to stand up to the corruption of the Dark Lord, knowing full well that their actions could put their children at risk, could leave them without parents. That was brave, Harry thought.

Why in the world are they asking _me_ to make a speech for killing a man when I had absolutely nothing to lose? People like the Weasley's could have lost everything and risked their lives anyway. The world did indeed work in mysterious ways that he was only now beginning to comprehend.

The conversation with Shackelbolt churned in his mind. He tried to shut it off. He turned over again, his eyes opened for some reason. He noted the empty owl cage up in the corner shelving of Ron's room. Suddenly, he missed Hedwig terribly. He could no longer sleep and yet it was the one thing he craved above all. Well, truth be told, what he craved was sleeping four floors below in the same room as Hermione. Harry sat up. Nope, there was no way he was going back to sleep now, not with Ginny in his head. He grabbed his glasses, got dressed as quietly as possible and headed downstairs for some tea.

**A/N: I actually cried when I wrote the stuff about Teddy and Harry whispering to the sky. I had so much more in my head but thought it would get morbid to put it all in. I understood JKR crying as she wrote the Forest Again chapter. The end of the chapter is supposed to feel a bit scattered, yet ideas should flow into and out of one another and hopefully you see the connections—a free write of the mind is what I was after. It is done purposefully so that you feel Harry's stress level over the conference as well as the fact that his mind was wandering everywhere.**


	2. Procrastination, Planning and a Perk

**Meet The Press**

**Chapter 2****: Procrastination and Planning and a Perk**

**Disclaimer: JKRowling owns everything here. No infringement intended. I just want MORE! LOL**

**A/N: This chapter contains a rotating narrative/p.o.v. (my term). It goes from third person, into conversations, into flashbacks in people's thoughts, especially Ginny's as she listens Harry and Hermion plan his speech.**

As Harry neared the bottom landing, he could hear newspaper pages turning. It sounded like the reader was a bit frustrated. He rounded the corner and found Hermione sitting at the kitchen table, reading The Times, a cup of tea sat as yet untouched beside her. She looked up at his entrance and smiled.

"Morning," she said quietly, trying not to wake anyone in earshot.

"Morning. Anything interesting?"

"Not compared to the goings on in our world, but that's not why I bought one," she said. "I'm trying to find a deal on a flight to Sydney." Sometimes she lamented the lack of electricity in wizarding households. It meant lack of computers and internet access. "Is Ron awake?"

"You're kidding, right?"

"I know. He can sleep through anything when he's in his own bed, can't he?" she said enviously, yet somewhat annoyed at the same time.

"Anything but Mrs. Weasley's muffins. If those were coming out of the oven, you can bet he'd be down here before they were even out of the pan."

"True," she smiled. "You're up early. Can't sleep?" Hermione looked at the clock. It wasn't even 7am.

"No. I can't get this press conference out of my head. I don't know what to say."

"It's hard to go wrong with the truth, you know."

"Hmmm." His eyebrows climbed skeptically towards his hairline. "People won't like the truth. I've been down this road before, remember? Plus, how much do I actually tell for all to hear? What if some nutter was to try and copy that creep and I gave them the ammunition to do it with? Then how much of that am I responsible for?"

Hermione digested his comments for a brief moment before she spoke. "Good point, in a sense, but, Harry you would be no more responsible with what people do with the information than a knife manufacturer. If a person is going to stab someone it is not the responsibility of the factory, just the person who committed a dangerous act. But seriously, Harry, haven't you tried writing a speech yet?" He looked at her guiltily. "Harry!"

"Hermione, you figure out what to tell people! I haven't got it all straightened out in my head yet and I'm supposed to tell _my_ story?" he said angry at the situation. Readjusting his opinion of Snape weighed heavily on his mind. "I've already told Kingsley everything. Why don't they just ask him? I just want to sleep. Sleep and to tell you the truth, forget." He washed his hands over his face. "I just want to live. I just want to be normal."

"Harry, I hate to break it to you, after all these years with that scar on your forehead, multiple near death experiences, special lessons from the most brilliant wizard our age has ever seen, and finishing off the greatest dark wizard of all time, that for you…that was normal. What you want…is abnormal!" She looked at him as if he were nuts for a moment. "Aren't you used to all this attention by now?" she joked.

Harry gave her an annoyed look, and then broke unwillingly into a smile. He reached over and grabbed her hand and gave it a quick squeeze and a grateful look. "There is no way I'd be sitting here at this table if it weren't for you. You stuck by me through everything over the years, saved my life…I don't know how many times. Talked me out of being an arse, made me see reason when I just wanted to give in or hit something. You even took care of me when I was sick." He shifted uncomfortable thinking of the night during which she nursed him after Nagini had attacked him in Godric's Hollow. "You are the most incredible friend."

Hermione smiled and blushed. "Thank you, Harry. But if I needed you I know you'd be there for me too, and actually you were," she said as her voice trailed lower in volume as she though of the torture and her recovery at Shell Cottage. Then she eyed him shrewdly. "You want me to write your speech for you, don't you?" He smiled sheepishly and pulled back his hand quickly. "Harry Potter!" She rolled her eyes. "Honestly! After Ron, you are the biggest procrastinator I have ever met! The press conference is in," she looked at the clock again, "six hours!"

"What are you on about now, Hermione?" Ginny's voice boomed as she rounded the corner. Harry's face immediately brightened as he stood up to go and meet her half way and give her a good morning kiss and hug.

Hermione opened her mouth to respond, but Harry cut in. "Nothing I don't deserve. She's right; I was trying to get her to write my speech for me." He looked at her apologetically. "Would youuu… consider having some strong input?" he said as he reached for her tea to take a sip. He received a slight scowl in return. Unimpressed, Hermione turned around in her chair and flicked her wand at the kettle on the stove which began to whistle almost immediately since the water it contained was already hot from making her own cup not five minutes earlier.

Hermione shook her head and let out an exasperated sigh, "Alright! Besides, it could help to put down any rumors swirling around about us being on the run together." Harry understood she was trying to put aside any concerns the Weasley women might have had. The fact that Ron and she were now a couple and Harry and Ginny were back together didn't stop people from wondering and the speculation about them in the Daily Prophet was annoying, despite the fact that Hermione was always pictured beside Ron. The gossip column was worse than Rita Skeeter at times.

Once Harry settled down with his own cup, and one for Ginny, they set to work with Hermione dictating and Harry writing. Ginny sat and listened closely wanting to know every detail too. Harry had told her some things, but they were always interrupted with either family or ministry people coming by. Harry was back, safe and sound. His feelings had not changed. She sensed they were stronger for her than ever. Ginny relaxed as she considered how much stronger her feelings for Harry had become. Seeing him dead in Hagrid's arms was almost more than she could bear.

Harry felt Ginny beside him take a deep shuddering breath. She was trying to hide her feelings about something. Their eyes met. She grimaced slightly and shook her head. His hand plunged under the table searching for hers. Finding it, he squeezed hers firmly. She took solace in the comfort he gave her. She smiled slightly as her eyes then wandered, landing on the kitchen window above the sink. From it she could see the light on in the garage. She knew what that meant. She had been sticking close to her parents who were so grief stricken over the death of Fred , as were they all. She knew how her parents were handling it. She instantly thought of her conversation with her mother the day before.

"You know mom, I never _truly_ understood how you felt when your brothers were killed. They were names to me since I never knew them."

She lowered her eyes in shame at her own incomprhension of the feelings her mum had gone through. After all, hew own twin brothers were named in honour of her uncles Fabian and Gideon Prewett. Did that in itself not show how much her mother had been devastated by the loss of her brothers? Why had she not considered this before? Had she been that self-centered to never truly think about it? Well…she was thinking about it now, and she understood. She did not feel the loss of a child, no matter how old. She hoped she never would.

"I felt sad for your loss, but now. Now we've lost Fred…" Ginny stopped and took in a deep breath to continue as her eyes watered. "I wanted to say how sorry I am for your loss of them. I know how you felt now. Merlin's beard! I wish I didn't."

Molly Weasley began crying anew, and pulled her only daughter to her. They held on to one another, heavy sobs escaping them. Someday remembrance will bring smiles, but that day seemed a long way off. Molly closed her eyes and visions of her son lying still before her swam in front of her. Nothing made one so vulnerable as to have a child. When she had married, Molly had thought that sharing your dreams, fears, memories, and yourself with someone was the ultimate in emotional exposure. How wrong she was. Having children did that more than anything. Children meant a piece of your heart was now outside your body. Pain caused to her children wounded her severely. Her heart felt it, even the pain of their scraped knees scraped at her heart. She could hug them, clean them up, and Mummy could kiss everything better. Nothing made her feel better right now with Fred gone. Her mind was haunted that she had pushed him aside to hug Percy in the Room of Requirement. She would have to live with that action.

Sleep was of no comfort. Arthur's arms held that comfort only, as he too was so devastated and shared the loss of a parent with her. He tried to be strong in front of everyone; a sniffle escaped him now and then. He did not cry in front of the children since Hogwarts when he fell apart, but she watched him disappear often these last two days into his garage and emerge a little redder in the face than usual about half an hour later. Yesterday afternoon, Ron had gone in after his father. He emerged with him puffy eyed later. Hermione had watched from the window of Ginny's bedroom and gone to meet him. After a brief hug with his father, Ron and Hermione walked hand in hand toward the orchard. The family was turning to each other in their grief. That was comforting Molly thought. She too found herself crying in the garage, or the orchard so she wouldn't upset the remaining children in her home. She remembered seeing her mother cry after her brothers' deaths. It was the worst feeling she had thought. Her naivety surprised even her. Suffering the loss of her son was exponentially worse.

Ginny was interested in the entire goings on while the trio was away. They, to her surprise grilled her for everything that happened to her at Hogwarts too. Their disconnection with the world was so isolating and depressing for them. She decided that neither situation was to be envied. Everyone had a cross to bear in this war. Everyone suffered in one way or another. She brought her mind back to the conversation at hand with Harry and Hermione.

Heavy footsteps could be heard coming from the stairs. Hermione smiled to herself, knowing all too well whose they belonged to. She looked up to see Ron entering the kitchen, yawning. His hair was slightly messy and his face still wore the look of sleepiness until his eyes landed on her and they brightened considerably as he winked at her. She blushed, still not used to these much more open displays of affection from him.

He noticed the three at the table, "Good morning. Why are we all up this early? Haven't we earned the right to sleep in?" he said as he walked over to Hermione, put a hand on her back and bent down to kiss her quickly as he slid into the chair next to her. His arm remained draped over her shoulder, his hand dangling slightly in front of her right shoulder. She dropped her cheek against the back of his hand and nuzzled it briefly responding to his gesture. Her heart was soaring. Could anyone tell, she thought.

"Yes, I'd say you three certainly have," Ginny said. "So why are you up?"

Ron shrugged, "I woke up when Harry shut the door, started thinking and then couldn't get back to sleep." His thoughts had turned immediately to Hermione, but he wasn't going to say that in front of Ginny. He was sure she would be up. He motioned to the open Muggle newspaper. "Any luck?"

She gazed at him affectionately. "No. Maybe I should try a Muggle library. They have public access to the internet, uh, the inter-connected computer network throughout the world, and many airlines are putting schedules and fares up there now. Their sites were not very user friendly last year, so I don't encourage you to learn a computer on their sites specifically Ron. But they seemed to be headed in the right direction last year. Soon, I'll bet you'll be able to choose your seat even."

"Are you going this morning?" he said as he stared at her tea and sniffed the air appreciatively.

"Not anymore. Harry here has been putting off writing his speech for this afternoon. So now I am going to help him. Your two cents would be welcome too," said Hermione with warm glance.

Ron took in the sincerity of her features and decided he could definitely get used to this Hermione. The contrast between these brief affectionate little looks directed only at him compared with the long, icy cold stares for anyone to see after Christmas was unnerving, but certainly welcome.

"Absolutely," chimed in Harry. He noticed the looks flowing between his best friends who seemed to be descending into their own little world, oblivious to the presence of others at times. Suddenly, he was glad everything was over on a new level. He would have felt like a third wheel in the tent very quickly, he thought.

Ron grunted. "After tea, OK?" Harry nodded understandingly and wrapped his hands around is own mug, before Ron got any ideas of taking a sip from it.

Molly Weasley opened the back door and entered the kitchen, her eyes puffy, her nose a little red. Ron's eyes squinted slightly. She had been in the garage already this morning. Not a good start to the day, he thought. She smiled at the assembly at her kitchen table. "Oh, my. Good morning. You're all up earlier than I expected. I'll just put some muffins together."

"I'll help, Mom," said Ginny as she got to her feet, giving Harry's hand a parting squeeze under the table before doing so.

"Yeah, me too," Ron chimed in. "Uh, I always wondered how you made these. Believe me; we missed your cooking while we were away. If we ever go away again Hermione, make sure you pack a cook book, and a bunch of spices!"

Molly beamed. It had the effect Ron intended. Hermione scowled. He had not intended that one, but quickly tilted his head in his mother's direction and motioned to her perked up mood. Hermione understood what he did and chose to hold back a biting remark about his own cooking.

"Oh, for heaven's sake! Cooking was the last thing we thought of when leaving if you'll think back a bit. But it was certainly something we thought of constantly while we were gone. We all missed your cooking, that's for sure, Mrs. Weasley."

"Thank you, dear. You know, you really should start calling me Molly. It's a bit of work to get your head wrapped around it, I suppose, but I don't mind."

Hermione beamed, unsure what to say at this gesture. "Oh, uh, thank you. Yes, that will take some getting used to."

Molly smiled and continued to shuffle about getting ingredients. Ron stood stone still with his mouth slightly open, as did Ginny. "That goes for you too, Harry. It's a lot less of a mouthful than Mr. and Mrs. Weasley. I'll inform Arthur so he won't be surprised and think you becoming forward in your heroic week," she teased him. Harry looked mortified. Molly laughed. "I'm kidding Harry! Well, not about the name part."

Ron jumped in. "Can we call you Molly and Arthur too?"

"Not if you want a response, young man," as she snapped a t-towel in his direction.

"Ouch! Just kidding, Mum!"

Ginny's eyes brightened for a moment as he grabbed another t-towel and snapped it at Ron.

"Hey!"

Hermione and Harry jumped up immediately and got more towels and suddenly the war was on between the two couples. Ron's eyebrows went up as he rummaged quickly in the drawer for a light weight towel that he knew worked well in such a situation. While looking, Harry snapped at his butt.

"Ow! What the bloody hell? Is it _PickOn Ron Day_?"

"Well, if you're going to put it out there, mate, don't expect us not to go for it!" said Harry.

The foursome continued their battle for a few minutes, Molly looked on amused and actually laughed, though she felt a little guilty for not defending her children from their friends.

Heavy footsteps came down the stairs quickly and George got into the mix, first by stealing the best towel from Ron as he came up behind him. Ron swore lightly, earning a look from his mother, and then grabbed Hermione's towel from her since her style left much to be desired in his opinion.

"Hey!" she complained.

"All's fair in love and war, love."

Her eyes narrowed at him. She avoided the main battle area and found another towel and wet is just the right amount to make it perfectly pliable. Then she whipped Ron. At his surprised response, she responded, "Friendly fire."

George looked impressed with his brother's girlfriend. "I think you've been hanging around this bloke too much, Granger! Love it!" He praised her, and Hermione beamed at his approval and a genuine smile that reached into his eyes for the first time in days.

"I can be taught!" she quipped.

The group dissovled into laughter and then had to call a truce as they examined their whip marks on exposed skin. Then they got back to the business at hand after the brief emotional respite.

"Well, a little breakfast should give us some energy and focus to put this thing together. I'll set the table. How many are we?" Harry offered. He did a count in his head and realized he included Fred in it out of habit. He shook his head and quietly went about getting cutlery for the number of Weasleys and guests that morning at The Burrow. Charley had arrived the day before, and Percy had stayed and not gone back to his flat in London. The kitchen became a hive of activity, a welcome distraction from loss and responsibility.

After the meal, Hermione got down to business. "Harry, I think you should have a speech prepared. But, also have reporters submit their questions in advance so that you can choose which ones to answer if your speech doesn't do that. Alternatively, you could also announce, if you like, that you will be speaking only, and not taking further questions. You know how reporters can be, so that might make it a little easier to take. What do you think?"

Harry nodded. He liked the way Hermione thought. She was rereading what they had done earlier and correcting. He looked at her there at the table with quill in hand and all seemed to be going back to normal for a moment. He smiled, thinking and hoping that some things would never change. Her voice cracked his appreciation of the moment.

"Harry, what about the Horcruxes? Do you want to mention them be name? You did so during the duel, you know."

"Hmmm. I think we'll leave that to the Ministry to truly identify what Riddle did. Those in the hall will know, that's fine, but I don't want to give any more ideas to wack-jobs out there. Can we find another term that hints but does not explicitly state what he did?"

"Security measures?" Ron supplied.

"That would work, wouldn't it?" Ginny encouraged, glad she was being included.

Troubled, Harry backed away from the table and started walking about the kitchen. "How far back to I go to explain this? I mean, my birth? The night my parents died?" Harry stopped pacing a moment, and then spun on his heel. "Sirius. No one knows he's innocent of those murders."

"What about why you survived in the forest? People will wonder why Voldemort thought you were...dead." Ron commented uncomfortably.

"Well, that one is easy. Narcissa lied to him. She was ordered to check and see if I was dead, and she just wanted to know if Draco was alive. I told her, and she told Riddle I was dead. Not a problem there actually. That's one of the easier questions to answer. But, my mom's spell. How do I tell anyone that Dumbledore explained everything else to me while I was hanging between life and death." Harry saw Ginny cringe. "Sorry." She smiled uncomfortably. "Seriously, people will think I'm a nutter if I tell them how much information I got from nearly crossing over. I could have stayed there. There was no pain at that moment. I felt better than I had in ages."

"You could have stayed, mate?" Ron was looking at him incredulously. Hermione's jaw dropped open. Ginny's eyes filled with water as she turned white.

"Yes. Dumbledore said I could choose to "go on", or come back and fight and possibly end everything."

"You never told us that. The spell had actually killed you? Is that what you're saying, Harry?" Hermione demanded to know. Ginny remained quiet, staring blankly at Harry. Her mouth was suddenly dry.

"Well, the spell killed the Horcrux in me, for sure. But it brought me to a state where I could choose which way I wanted to go." He looked at Ginny for the first time. She averted her eyes and excused herself to the washroom.

"Harry! How on earth did you choose to come back? When you were pain free and…"Hermione's voice trailed off as he put his hand in the air to stop her.

"Excuse me a minute." Harry left the room to follow Ginny to the bath. He tried the doorknob to find it locked. "Ginny. Ginny?" he called softly through the door. She didn't answer, but he heard a grab for facial tissue. Damn. He pulled out his wand from his jeans. "_Alohomora_." The door unlocked and he entered, shutting the door behind him.

"I, I'm sorry Harry, I just.."

"Stop," he said gently. He stepped towards her and pulled her to him and hugged her. She leaned into him and the dam burst open in waves of sobs, her body shaking against his as she clung to him –_for life_. Harry just held her as long as she needed, burrying his face into her hair around her neck. She smelled so good. He had missed the smell of her hair while away. During tent duty he would try to remember the scent that gave him so much comfort as well as filling him with all that he associated with Ginny. He thought of her hair flowing behind her while they played quidditch, like flames that followed. He shifted his position lest the wrong emotion enter this room at this time. He could tell she sensed a change in him but chose to disregard it.

Ginny pulled back slightly, but never left his arms. "Seeing you, dead…I just…I felt like I died in that moment. Everything I dreamed of in a future was gone, lifeless. I felt myself shrinking in some way. I'm not saying that I knew where this between us was going to go…I just…the possibility of that future being with you was ripped away from me, from us. I felt sick to my stomach when I saw you like that. I still feel it so strong when I think of it. I felt utterly empty." Her eyes had left him as she tried to explain, staring at the button of his collar until her last statement when her eyes met his, pleading with him to understand how much his demise would and did affect her.

His left hand remained on her waist as his right came up to caress her cheek, his thumb gently wiping away the tears falling there. "Ginny, don't you know?" He looked at her so softly that she felt she would fall deep into the well of green eyes enveloping her and never come out. Her pulse sped up as the heat between them rose slightly. Her breaths were suddenly short as he leaned in slightly making sure she was completely his focus. "I love you. I want that life together more than anything. That's why I left. There was no way I would be able to hold you and not be afraid that you would be hurt because of me. I went after him as much for my own selfish reasons as the fact that I was the one chosen to do it."

She stared at him. She did hear what he said, but her mind kept coming back to the first three words.

"I love you. Did you hear what I said?" he inquired nervously.

"Yes. I love you too."

With that admission, their lips found each other as arms encircled and pulled each other in. He drank in the moan that escaped from her as their tongues sought each other out and battled for dominance. This kiss was like nothing he had experienced with her before, nothing like the one on his birthday. This kiss held promise instead of the impending denial of departure. It held passion, friendship, strength and support. It held love and a future.

When they broke apart, they were both breathless and eyes shining at each other as they both grinned like fools. Then Harry laughed.

"What?"

He looked at his surroundings. "Well, I never thought the first time I said _I love you_ would be in the loo. Not very romantic."

"Romance does not have to be planned, Harry."

"Well, in that case, I'm your man. I suck at actually planning anything. Just ask those two out there!"

She laughed. "In a minute. I'm not done using the loo!" she grinned mischievously, a twinkle in her eye as she advanced on her man.


	3. The Press Conference

**Chapter 3: The Press Conference**

Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns all characters mentioned here. No infringement intended.

A/N: This will feel a bit re-cappish, but there are thoughts woven into it and additional conversation at the end. Sorry for the delay, if anyone is actually reading this. The flu hit my household, not to mention holiday craziness. Thanks to _David305_ for an effective review to fix up my premature submission. I was feeling guilty for the long wait.

Harry Potter, Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger stepped into the atrium of the Ministry of Magic from the transporting floo network fireplaces. Harry took a moment to assess his surroundings. The changes made under Voldemort's regime were already being replaced with earlier monuments. The sickening tribute "Magic is Might" with wizards trampling Muggles was gone, thankfully. Kingsley worked fast, he thought impressed. He had never been to the Ministry under positive circumstances. He thought of his trial, the disastrous rescue attempt of Sirius which resulted in his death. He was walking into the very area where Dumbledore and Voldemort had dueled. He had never seen magic at that level before. It had frightened him. The Battle for Hogwarts on Sunday had surpassed it though with so many witches and wizards taking part. Curses flew everywhere and most of the time no one knew which way one came from. The memory sent shivers down his spine. How they had survived, he knew not, except that the hunt for the diadem Horcrux had taken priority over cursing anyone.

Kingsley Shacklebolt accompanied them and went directly to the podium. "Good day to you all. In a moment Mr. Harry Potter will speak. He will not be taking any more questions than those already submitted for consideration that I passed on to him on Monday evening on your behalf."

Harry looked at his feet, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. He had decided not to read the questions and just tell his story as best he could. He would discuss some of things that had happened during the past year and explain as much as possible how Voldemort was no longer a threat to the Wizarding World, and he would never personally be so again.

"Everyone has been through a lot this past week, Mr. Potter in particular," Kingsley continued. "I remind you to think of the person, not the story for a moment and act accordingly. Now without further ado," he glanced at Harry in silent invitation, "Mr. Harry Potter, the floor is yours."

Harry cleared his throat as he moved toward the podium. He took out his papers and quickly looked for Ginny. She was standing with the rest of her family at the back of the atrium, towards the fireplace hallway. Ron and Hermione were slightly behind Harry and to his right. Ginny gave him an encouraging smile and he began. His notes were with him, but he rarely looked at them except to steady himself whenever he spoke of the lost people that he loved. Hermione had made large bolded letters to guide him for whenever he might lose his place, and highlighted subtopics for each section.

"Good afternoon. Welcome to our third day of freedom. Welcome home to all those who are coming back, and rejoining their families who have been so worried and ripped apart by your absence. Welcome back to taking for granted that the sun will rise in the east and set in the west and that you will be free to see it if you choose. Welcome back to being able to go about life and speak your mind without fear. Welcome back to just being who we are and there being nothing wrong with whose blood runs through our veins, or the family name we carry."

"In the early moments of daylight on May 2, 1998, a period of terrible darkness in our world came to an end. I, along with many of you here, and many others who are no longer with us, fought to resurrect daylight and freedom. The process, and I do realize now as I look back that this was a process that began long ago. The final denouement occurred that spring morning, but the steps taken to get there began for me, the moment I received a scar from Lord Voldemort as he tried to kill me when I was a child, trying to stop almost seventeen years ago what happened at Hogwarts this week. To understand all that happened, I have to explain everything that has happened since Voldemort's first death, October 31st, 1981.

"From that moment on, I came under the protection of Albus Dumbledore and, my mother." He paused to see the registration of his mother's actions on the faces of those assembled. "So many of you and I myself wondered how I could have survived the Killing Curse used against me by Lord Voldemort when I was a baby. The Professor explained to me that her sacrifice is what allowed me to live. My mother, Lily Evans Potter, a Muggle-born, paid the ultimate price to save me. The vehicle she did it through was love. It is love that Voldemort never experienced or understood. It was the power of love, and selflessness that he overlooked so often and did not bother to put any credibility into that was Voldemort's undoing."

Harry noticed the uneasiness in the room. "You all continue to cringe at his name. There is no need. There is no possible way for him to come back from the dead this time. We made sure of it, Dumbledore and many others working in secrecy made sure of it."

"Albus Dumbledore protected me. He understood the magic that came into play when my mother saved me. He had me raised in the Muggle world where my mother's spell would be active to keep me safe as a child completely unaware of the role fate had dealt me. I was raised apart from this world. I knew absolutely nothing of real magic until a certain groundskeeper, Rubeus Hagrid, was given the task of tracking me down, informing me that I was a wizard and offering me the invitation to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. That, as I'm sure you can imagine, explained a lot of things that were happening around me when I was a child. It was the most memorable moment of my childhood. At that point I had no idea what was in store for me. But, the headmaster certainly did. He knew that I had to come to Hogwarts and be trained because the protective spell from my mother's sacrifice would leave me when I turned seventeen. If I did not come to Hogwarts and get trained, I would be quite vulnerable to a man obsessed with killing the one person whom he believed had not succumbed to him."

"I came to Hogwarts on the express, just like all other students. I had the happy fortune of meeting my best friend that very first day, Ron Weasley. This is a man who has been by my side for all these years and whose cheerfulness, sense of moral decency, and loyalty and friendship have been my rock in the worst of times. There is absolutely no doubt in my mind that I would not be here today if it weren't for Ron Weasley who has indeed saved my life, and played a great role in the demise of Voldemort. A most heartfelt thanks, mate," he said as he glanced in Ron's direction.

Molly Weasley froze as she took in Harry's description of her son, _a man_. She looked over at Ron, her youngest son, and was awed once again how much he had changed during the past year. It took her a moment to come back to listening to Harry's speech which then described the young woman who stood beside Ron. She was becoming more beautiful with each passing year, she thought, and not just her looks.

"On that train I also met a young girl, Hermione Granger. My other best friend, whom I have watched not just become brilliant, but become the most caring, resolute and fair-minded person I have ever met. Again, if it were not for having formed this incredible and very dear and respectful friendship, I would not be standing before you here today. Countless times, her ingenuity and preparedness saved not only the day, but all our lives. Hermione Granger stuck by me, defended me when others would walk away. Her compassion knows no bounds. I couldn't ask for a better sister if I had one. Let there be no misunderstanding: these two people are responsible for my being alive, for keeping my spirits up when all seemed too hard to carry through with." Harry paused for a moment to make eye contact with his best friends and then to compose himself so he could continue on.

The cameras turned on the pair and began to flash. Ron leaned in to Hermione and whispered in her ear, "You didn't write that with him, did you?"

Hermione was tearing up, "No, he put that in himself." She smiled back to Harry and gave him an accepting and encouraging nod.

"As you can see, Ron and Hermione continue to give me support and encouragement in life and death situations," he joked. The press people gathered in front of him laughed lightly and Harry felt the mood lighten a bit and was grateful. Harry continued on.

"But there are many others who are also responsible, some greatly, some in a small but valuable way contributed as well. Whether it be a radio program to keep us fighting and defending what we hold dear, or seeing an innocent woman being manipulated into exile or prison by Death Eaters, or simple graffiti on a monument; these acts of defiance, disgust and encouragement kept us determined to go on. To watch Death Eaters de-value human life was sickening. It motivated us to keep going, to fight on. We had something to fight for, and something to fight against."

"I am here before you because I carried out the final act but the most credit belongs to Albus Dumbledore, I must repeat, for preparing me; to be able to meet my own mortality if need be, for preparing me in understanding the way Tom Riddle's mind worked, in understanding what drove him so that I could understand how he did such terrible things in his quest for immortality and ultimate power."

"Albus Dumbledore, was a man not unlike everyone else here. A man who had his own faults and problems that he had to work through like everyone else. He was a man who learned from his mistakes but would be the first one to admit when he made one. I'm sure you know he was not modest about his accomplishments, nor should he have been. There are those who found him arrogant in his brilliance. Perhaps that may be, but it would have been shameful to not give respect to the incredible light that he could bring to a situation. For all his accomplishments, you know he told me, he would have been pleased to receive a pair of wool socks for Christmas instead of more books. He was human. He had faults. I acknowledge that wholeheartedly. We had our rows the headmaster and me. He tried to protect me from Voldemort, trying to figure out just when would be the best time to tell an 11 year old boy what was to come of his life. Perhaps he erred in not telling me sooner. I was 15 when he did so, after the death of the innocent Sirius Black. Time will tell me surely that _I _would have no idea how to tell a child that he was marked for death by the greatest dark wizard of all time."

"Slowly, he tried to reveal bits and pieces of the puzzle of the Dark Lord to me so that I could put things together myself and come to the realization on my own. This angered me greatly at times. I just wanted to know all at once, but he was right. I was not ready to know it all when I was so young; it is very hard to admit that. I am not sure I'm ready to know as much as I do today. The horrors Voldemort committed against pure innocence are unmentionable, and I will not go into the details of them. History will unearth those soon enough; I leave that decision to the Ministry to expose the details of his murders. I think I need more time than just two days to think things through still, regarding the little details." He stopped and took a breath before telling the next part. "I began to see into his mind." He pointed at the scar. "Being marked by his dark magic allowed me to understand him on a level that no one else could. He chose me when he did so. That is how I became the Chosen One. And, Voldemort did not understand that it was he himself who had chosen the one to seal his fate." He stopped a moment and took a breath and looked at Ginny. She had grown pale suddenly. He wondered if he could continue until she nodded her head to give him confidence.

"Dumbledore encouraged me to confide my feelings, my anger, and my questions in my two best friends who had proved themselves loyal, trustworthy, and discreet. They were an excellent sounding board for me. Slowly the headmaster revealed parts of Voldemort's past as Tom Riddle, what drove him, his interests, and his past exploits in the Muggle world as a child. Together we put the pieces of the puzzle together. Ever the teacher, Dumbledore was setting up a quest for me—so that I would acquire the knowledge for myself so that the magic needed to end this would be earned and thus that much more powerful when I was to confront him. To give me all the information without doing any work to get it would have lessened any impact I had at the end just a few days ago." Harry frowned a moment. _I think I just basically repeated myself. Well, either they'll think I'm an idiot, or understand I'm nervous._ He shrugged inwardly and continued on.

The professor began leaving Hogwarts to investigate his findings. On one mission, he was hurt. The dark magic that Voldemort used to guard his secrets was very great as you can imagine. It was one of his security spells that damaged the headmaster's hand and turned it black. If it wasn't for Professor Snape, Dumbledore would have been killed within hours of making contact with it. Severus Snape, a very gifted wizard, saved his life and gave him approximately a year to live instead of mere hours." He stopped and took another breath. _He goes…_

"Severus Snape, the last headmaster of Hogwarts, was a good man, a conflicted man, a man in a very dangerous position. He was a former Death Eater, turned informant for Dumbledore. The death of Albus Dumbledore was planned between them. I repeat, Severus Snape did _not _murder Albus Dumbledore. That _job_ had been given to Draco Malfoy by Voldemort. Dumbledore asked Snape to do the job, to kill him, to spare the soul of Draco Malfoy if it came down to it. Although Malfoy sadly believed much of the pureblood ideology that he was brought up with, Dumbledore did not want him to have to live with any guilt that might come. Snape was extremely upset at this request, but came to terms with it as a necessary deed to keep up the charade that he was still in Voldemort's employ. At a crucial point, Professor Snape helped me directly.

When Dumbledore died, he willed certain items to me. Items that if I put the pieces together, a quest, would allow me to destroy Voldemort's security measures, possibly protect me if used correctly, and bring Voldemort back to mortality. For sentimental reasons, he left me the snitch from my first Quidditch match." He looked at Hermione and Ron for added assurance that he was not going to reveal the Deathly Hallows to the public or to the Ministry.

"The other item was the Sword of Gryffindor. It was Severus Snape who was responsible for us receiving the Sword of Gryffindor which became such a help to us throughout our quest. The sword was used to destroy three of Voldemort's security measures over the years—Dumbledore did one, Ron Weasley used it against another just after Christmas. Neville Longbottom destroyed another by using the sword against Nagini, Voldemort's snake, in whom another security measure had been hidden. Very few things would have been able to help us, but Dumbledore impregnated the sword with Basilisk venom which is an extremely powerful poison. If you know any history behind the sword, only a true Gryffindor can acquire the sword in time of need and use it. The mere sight of the sword in our possession made Bellatrix Lestrange accidentally reveal the hiding place of another of Voldemort's secrets; Gringott's. That was why we were there last week. We were not there to personally profit by theft; our aim was only to take what Voldemort had hidden deep within the bank. The break-in alerted Tom Riddle to the fact that I knew how he had secured his immortality; that I was in fact looking for his devices. This brought us to Hogwarts, the last hiding place. Once Voldemort checked on the condition of others, finding them gone, he came immediately to Hogwarts assuming I would be there to continue the hunt. The battle was not planned. We tried to keep our presence in the school as quiet as possible, but that did not work, obviously.

"This journey against and with Voldemort began with my parents and their friends and the people who fought against the Dark Lord many years ago, the Order of the Phoenix. My parents went into hiding and died trying to defend me. That awful night many lives were changed. One among them was a man named Sirius Black, my Godfather.

"My father, James Potter had three best friends: Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, and Peter Pettigrew. The last of which betrayed my father, gave the whereabouts of my parents to Tom Riddle, and in so doing assisted in their deaths. He framed Sirius Black for the murders of 13 Muggles. Sirius escaped Azkaban and exposed Pettigrew, an unregistered animagus who had, that infamous night cut off his finger before transforming into a rat. He then went into hiding for the next 12 years."

Peripherally, he could see Ron shift uncomfortably. Deciding not to look at him, he moved on. "To let the world know what happened would have put Sirius' life in further jeopardy as the Death Eaters would have hunted him down. He remained in hiding, another prison, for the last two years of his life. After discovering Pettigrew's secret, we transformed him back into a man, but he escaped and without evidence of Pettigrew's being alive, thus Sirius Black was still a condemned man with no evidence to the contrary."

"A month ago we were captured by Snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor for interrogation. The Dark Lord killed Pettigrew then. He did this when Pettigrew showed a moment's hesitation in dealing with us, a moment of mercy. That small act was enough to condemn him to death. He strangled Pettitgrew using the magical hand that Voldemort made for him on the night that Pettigrew helped to bring his master back to life using my blood; the same night Cedric Diggory was killed. Voldemort would only accept blind loyalty and submission—something that the fighters at Hogwarts understood and would not accept."

He took a deep breath, a memory crossing his features. He looked around at the people who would not believe him three years earlier because it was either convenient —to label him a nutter—or was it too frightening to believe his story. Harry chose the latter and pushed down the brewing anger inside him. Two deaths had occurred that year that needed to be explained again, apparently. Could this all have been stopped if he had just been listened to by the right people? He was still angry at Cornelius Fudge. He glanced at Kingsley, and thought at least they were on the right track now.

"The night Cedric Diggory was killed…will haunt me forever I believe. Voldemort's servant, Barty Crouch Jr. had escaped Azkaban and used Polyjuice Potion to become a double for retired Auror, Alastor "MadEye" Moody whom he kept captive. Right from day one, Crouch was in place in our Defense Against the Dark Arts class. It was Crouch who murdered his own father, and who was responsible for my name going into the Triwizard Cup. He confunded the cup into thinking there were four schools, and my name was submitted under another school's name. Since there was only one student entered from that school, naturally the cup chose me as a champion. It was Crouch who turned the cup into a portkey."

"When Cedric and I chose to touch the trophy together to have a tie, we were transported to a grave yard in Little Hangleton where Voldemort's father, Tom Riddle Sr., and grandparents were buried. Riddle by the way was responsible for each of their killings; it was a revenge for his father's rejection and abandonment of his mother. Merope Gaunt Riddle had fallen in love with a Muggle, used a love potion to have him love and marry her. When she chose to no longer use the potion, her husband threw her out and she gave birth to Tom Riddle Jr. in a Muggle orphanage and died an hour later. The Riddle family gardener, Frank Bryce, accused in the Muggle world of their murders, was also killed by Voldemort when he went to check on the house that he still took care of. He is an example of another who just fell in his path and Voldemort, being who he was, took no value in human life and disposed of him—a man who stayed loyal to a slain family despite the controversy of being accused himself of their murders."

"I digressed a moment to show you how much research was involved in learning about him. But, now I return to the horrible night in question. Voldemort immediately ordered Pettigrew to kill Cedric, and then I was bound to a headstone statue while Pettigrew performed the magic as instructed by Voldemort to bring him back to a full physical man. The dark magic included the severing of the servant's arm, robbing the grave and taking a bone from his father's skeleton, and using my blood."

"As I said, this was indeed a process. Voldemort's actions changed some of that process and Dumbledore figured it out. By using my blood instead of anyone else', he tripled the connection between us. The connections between the Dark Lord and me are: the most obvious one, the scar on my forehead, the fact that our wands shared the same core, and now my blood. The scar allowed me to get into his mind when he was exceptionally emotional and not guarding himself. I knew why he was upset or happy in those moments and that allowed us to analyze whatever happened, and plan our next move."

"Both our wands held at their core a phoenix feather from the same bird. This made them act strangely. Neither wand wanted to kill its brother. When they connected in our duel in Little Hangleton, my wand imbibed some of Voldemort's wand's power which thus became more powerful against Voldemort's wand."

"The third connection: my blood. He rebuilt his body using my blood, which had my mother's protective enchantment. Thus, we were both tethered to life when he used the killing curse against me for the second time, giving us both a second chance at life if hit by the Avada Kedavra. When I faced Voldemort in the Great Hall, both of us were free of any protective enchantment, and all of his security measures destroyed, by basilisk venom, fiendfyre, or his own killing curse rebounding on him again.

The last of my father's close circle of friends was the late great man, Remus Lupin, our former Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. Without his tutelage, I would never have been able to make a full bodied patronus at age 13, and then teach other students how to do so and defend themselves when we were faced with a teacher two years later who refused to teach us practical defense. Remus Lupin taught us how to break free from dark magic, which came in handy this year," he said as he glanced quickly at Ron. "He could even be held responsible for my winning the Triwizard Cup as his teachings helped me to overcome many obstacles during the competition. Remus, was a wonderful teacher, mentor, and later became a great friend. He suffered from lycanthropy. His life was made hell by so many, yet he was here, fighting Voldemort along with the people who thought so little of him because of an affliction. He stepped up, as he always did. He was one of my father's best friends, and I could certainly see why. He honored me with the request that I be his son's godfather.

"Remus Lupin…a werewolf. How our world has turned its back on people in need, in distress—on creatures that they think are somehow inferior to them. Voldemort and his Death Eaters personified hate, intolerance, supremacist thinking, and the devaluation of life and dignity based on criterion."

"How did you feel when your neighbor was taken or killed for simply being who he is? Did you stand up to stop it? Or did you hide away in your homes and put your head down so that no one noticed you? We are all guilty in some form or another of this. We turn a blind eye to house elves magically bound to serve wizards because it is inconvenient to analyze how much we have benefitted from their servitude." Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Ron's comforting arm come up around the shoulders of a silently weeping Hermione. She saw the injustice so much earlier than he and Ron did and finally he understood how connected she felt to them in this magical world. He folded close the final paragraph of his prepared speech. Suddenly, it felt so benign as he thought of the torturous night, and of the cackles and sneers in the forest when he arrived to face Voldemort. What had he done to any of these people? He was on the fly now, and her tears gave him the purpose to carry on with this line of thought."

"We neglect to hear the beliefs of Goblins because they conflict with ours, yet they are just as valid. I am one man. A man whose life and those of my friends were saved by an elf, Dobby. He was a free elf. He chose to sacrifice his personal safety to save us."

"There are many problems in this world. Voldemort was an easy target to blame everything on. Now, he is gone. It would be irresponsible for all of us to stand here and say our troubles are over. Many took part in what happened this past year, actively or passively. You may not have raised a wand against your fellow wizard, but did you raise your wand in their defense? There is a lot of work to be done, privately, personally and publically. And when the words, beliefs and actions from all theatres reflect one another, perhaps we will truly begin to heal, to find absolution."

Harry nodded curtly and stepped away from the podium placing his papers in his jacket pocket. His direction was clear and made his way over to Hermione and Ron. Her face, red and puffy and tear stained, she reached for Harry and they embraced each other as their partners looked on in understanding and sympathy. Ginny having made her way over to her brother and his girlfriend when Harry spoke of Dobby, came to offer her support to Hermione. When Harry and Hermione broke apart, she whispered, "Thank you."

"Right back at you. Suddenly, everything became so much clearer—everything you've been saying for years. Most brilliant woman I know," he said proudly. He looked at Ron, "Don't let her get away, mate," as he patted him on the shoulder. Ron beamed with admiration for his girlfriend and quickly grabbed her hand. Harry copied the action with Ginny and the four of them made their way towards a corridor near the fireplace hallway following Kingsley Shacklebolt.

When finally sequestered away from the press, Harry began to shake a little at everything he had just relived. Ginny beside him squeezed his hand trying to give him a boost of support and confidence. "That was very well done Harry. It's over now."

He smiled down at her, enjoying the warmth of her eyes focused only on him as if there wasn't another in the world right now. "I think it's just beginning…a new phase of the war, this time with ourselves."

"I just meant…"

"I know. Thanks," he said softly.

Kingsley walked over to him with a glass of water and handed it to Harry. "You are very astute in your assessment of things Harry. It is unfortunate. We will all have to examine our roles in letting this get out of hand. Fear is powerful, and power does indeed corrupt. To that end I have a proposition for you."

Surprised, Harry listened intently to the Minister of Magic.

"I am aware of Headmistress McGonagall's offers to you—go back and finish seventh year if you wish or receive your diploma immediately. Whichever you choose, there would be a job waiting for you here at the Ministry. I think you would make an excellent Auror. You could get paid for what you've been doing for the past year. I think you would even have the potential to head the Department someday. Think about it and get back to me.

He looked at Ginny. A future with her seemed all the more possible in that moment. He had a home and now a job at his fingertips if he wanted. She smiled up at him, her pride and love for him overflowing. That was all he needed.

"Thought about it. I'd be glad to start work right away. Start to get a real life—if you think I'm ready. How long is training?"

"Usually, full training is three years in length. I'll get you the books required. But I'd say, there's not one person in that department who wouldn't welcome you immediately into the fold." He smiled and put out his hand to Harry, "Welcome to the _new_ Ministry of Magic, Mr. Potter."

Harry smiled and shook Kingsley's hand. Kingsley nodded his head in approval. "I think that was the shortest job interview of my life!"

Harry laughed, "Mine too. But, I do have a request to put in."

"Yes."

"Well, I need a month or so before beginning. Hermione, well, we have to find her parents…" They relayed what Hermione had done to keep her parents safe. Harry was going to pay her way to Australia and accommodations. They didn't mention Ron's accompanying her. That was private. Harry would stay behind unless contacted by them if there was a problem. He had left Ginny enough, he decided.

"Enough said. A memory charm! Merlin, that's pretty advanced magic for someone who's only passed 6th year. That's second year Auror training, my dear! Well, well, maybe we should recruit you as well, actually, all of you." He looked at Ron too, impressed with the young man who stood by so protectively. Harry had told Kingsley of how Ron had saved him and broken free of Voldemort's dark magic. Kingsley decided he would make a special trip to both these young people to offer them work so that they would not feel the offer was only because Harry was in the room. Their ingenuity had saved the day more than once, and with Harry's comment of their decency and moral fortitude, he could not imagine rebuilding the Ministry without such fine young people.

"Hermione, the Ministry will gladly pay for you to get to Australia and find your parents. Save your money Harry. I think it's the least we can do. Book an open ended flight on a Muggle airline." He glanced at Ron and added. "Make that two tickets, and accommodation as required. As capable as you are, I would feel remiss for a young woman to be travelling alone. It's such a long flight. You'll enjoy the company," he said resisting the urge to wink.

"Thank you, Kingsley," Hermione said, feeling very touched. Her family would be together soon. First though, they had several funerals to attend and the Celebration of Independence as it was already being called by people everywhere in honor of Victory Day. It felt very strange to celebrate and mourn at the same time, but that was the ironic legacy of war.

"Thanks, Kingsley," Ron said as he shook the Minister's hand.

"I will see you all tomorrow. The service for your brother is at 11am, yes?" he inquired of Ron.

Ron nodded his head gravely, unable to speak all of a sudden.

Kingsley covered their handshake with his other hand, firmly shaking and holding Ron's hand simultaneously in a gesture of admiration mixed with sympathy. "A very brave and honorable family. Tomorrow we honor Fred specifically, but he will have a special place in our hearts for a very long time. I can't tell you how much he lifted my spirits on that radio program. Some people truly make a difference in so many lives. It is a shame, how loss points this out so clearly."

"Thank you," Ron replied sincerely. "For everything, really," he added, gesturing towards Hermione.

Soon they would plan for something positive, something long overdue.

A/N: I personally never understood how Dumbledore's explanation of how Lily's enchantment kept Harry and Voldemort tethered to life if it had worn off when Harry turned seventeen. Glad to receive a PMS on that one from a smarter person than I.


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